


All Dogs Go To Earth

by doomed_spectacles



Series: If I could love like anybody else [9]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Dogs, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Post-Canon, Soft Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24881923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomed_spectacles/pseuds/doomed_spectacles
Summary: When Crowley receives an unwelcome visitor, he's assisted by an unexpected ally.Or,In 2030, Crowley finally comes to an agreement with Aziraphale's dog.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: If I could love like anybody else [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1504748
Comments: 17
Kudos: 77





	All Dogs Go To Earth

**Author's Note:**

> There's really no explanation for this other than I love my dog very much. All dogs are Very Good Dogs.
> 
> Follows [this story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21694747) but the context is pretty clear, so I don't think you'll be lost if you don't read that first. The gist is that Aziraphale's Heavenly titles are taken away from him some years after the Apocalypse. Distraught, he finds a dog exactly when he's in need of a dog. After, Crowley reminds him that he's carried some fairly important titles on earth, too.
> 
> Contains one rude word and the tiniest suggestion of sexual content, but otherwise mostly talking. (i.e. extremely On Brand content right here.)

[2030]

Aziraphale was walking the South Downs Way when his dog disappeared.

It was early. Sunlight pierced the fields, like a glacier of light slowly advancing as the day crept forward. The sound of his shoes crunching the damp gravel path and Barnabus’s light footsteps were accompanied by birdsong, and occasionally, a honking line of cars when the path rose above the roadway. The crisp morning dew collected on his brimmed hat. Ahead a few paces, Barnabus’s tail swung as he trotted along the familiar trail.

He was somewhere between Amberley and Bignor. A lively young couple in brightly-colored gear wearing packs had just passed by with a wave and friendly nod. Then, Barnabus was gone. He didn’t run ahead, or dash off to the side of the path chasing squirrels as he sometimes did. He was gone.

Aziraphale stopped. He staked his pole and rested his weight on it. An emotion he hadn’t felt in years rose from the pit of his stomach and clenched an icy hand around his throat. Around him the birds chattered, the cars honked, the wind whistled through the trees. But his dog was nowhere.

“Barnabus!” Aziraphale called out, though he knew no answer was coming. Barnabus was gone. He’d grown accustomed to his dog’s silent, unassuming presence. Being with Barnabus was like wearing a comfortable hat; once on it was simply a part of one’s day, but taking it off felt like a loss.

He turned his feet toward home and kept to a brisk pace. The clack-clack-clack of his walking pole sounded more hollow than it had a moment ago.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale called out as he opened the door. He left on his hat and coat, but left his walking pole leaning against the front door frame.

“Hello?” 

No answer.

Aziraphale scanned the living room and kitchen. The cup of tea and saucer he’d used before setting off were still sitting on the counter, unwashed. Crowley’s espresso machine was clean, his mug still hanging on its hook above the sink. There was a strange smell wafting down from the stairs that led to the bedroom.

“Crowley?”

“Out here, angel.” Crowley’s voice drifted in casually from the garden. He was sitting at their patio table in his usual place with an open bottle of bourbon and a glass on the table before him. His knee bounced nervously under the table. It was barely 9 am and he wasn’t wearing sunglasses.

Crowley was stroking the thick scruff of white and tan fur on Barnabus’s neck absently. The dog’s eyes were closed and he sat in a sunbeam, content.

“There you are,” Aziraphale said, not sure if he meant Crowley or the dog or both. He sat down in his spot at the table, opposite Crowley. He carefully set aside his walking hat.

For a long moment, Crowley was silent.

“Your dog and I have come to an agreement,” he said, finally.

“You and Barnabus came to an agreement?”

“That's what I said, yes.” Barnabus let out a heavy dog sigh and settled down on the patio bricks. He rested his head on his front paws and closed his eyes again. His dark brown nose twitched a few times, sniffing the morning breeze.

Silence.

“You've paid him no mind for almost two years, Crowley. He's paid _you_ no mind for almost two years.”

“Yep.” He popped the ‘p’ in that obnoxious way Aziraphale secretly loved.

A breeze ruffled Crowley’s hair. He hadn’t pulled it back yet, and it looked like he hadn’t bothered to comb or style it at all. Aziraphale took a closer look at the demon across the table. He was wearing his usual attire, but there was a rushed quality about the way he wore it that set off alarm bells in Aziraphale’s mind. That, and the fact that he was well on his way to being soused before 10 am on a Wednesday.

“I guess I figured you were just more a cat person,” he said cautiously.

“A cat-” Crowley sighed. “I was a _snake_ , Aziraphale, small animals don't exactly take to me.”

“You had a rat army!”

Crowley crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “That's different.”

“How?”

“We're not- we're not talking about-”

“What happened, Crowley?” Aziraphale looked around the garden. Nothing seemed amiss. The giant oak tree shaded their heads and shed leaves when the breeze picked up. The smell of lavender drifted about. Barnabus snorted once, then settled heavily on his side. Aziraphale noticed a brand new bone next to his head.

Crowley just shook his head, silent.

Nodding, Aziraphale summoned The Times from the front porch and scanned the headlines. Crowley would talk when he was ready. He read an article about rising sea levels threatening the Royal Family’s property in Scotland. Just as he opened the paper to page two, Crowley spoke.

“Where did this dog come from, Aziraphale?”

“You know the story. I was walking and-”

“I know, but _where_?”

Aziraphale furrowed his brow. “I don't know what you mean. He was there on the path and he told me his name was Barnabas.”

“But how did-” Crowley leaned forward, and an urgency entered his voice. “Aziraphale, where did he come from? He didn't have a collar or an ID-”

“Not until I got him one, no.”

“Then how did you know his name?”

“He told me.” Aziraphale set the paper aside. He folded his hands in his lap and briefly considered summoning a glass from inside. “He told me his name and we came home and-”

He paused, remembering.

“Oh.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. He looked expectant, but didn’t interrupt.

“I was walking. I'd been demoted, you remember?” He took a deep breath. “I’d received a letter. From Upstairs. I was … upset. And I walked, and there he was. Barnabus. He came home with me and we talked and that night you-”

Aziraphale blushed. He expected Crowley to grin or wink, but he didn't.

“Well.” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Anyway, after that night, he was here with us. We ramble together. He sleeps in a little bed next to our bed. He ignores you and you ignore him, and mercifully he leaves the garden alone except to chase the rabbits, and-”

He stopped, suddenly very concerned. “What happened, Crowley?”

“I had a visitor. From Downstairs”

“Are you-”

“I'm fine, angel.” Crowley’s voice was low with drink, and deadly serious. “I think it was just a reminder. We're still here, and we’re still assholes.”

Aziraphale summoned a glass from inside. He poured himself a drink and Crowley topped up his own.

“I woke up, and-”

“Crowley-”

“It's okay, it was okay,” Crowley said. His voice was soft but serious. It was the voice he used when he wanted Aziraphale to believe everything was fine when it very clearly wasn’t. “Don't go upstairs yet, though, I need to fix the bedroom. ‘S a bit scorched at the moment.”

Crowley took a drink.

“It was- I handled it. _We_ handled it.” He waved his hand in the air, indicating himself and the slumbering dog at his feet. ”Okay, _he_ handled it. But I helped. I was there, is what I’m saying.”

“I didn’t recognize him, the demon they sent. Some low-level grunt, probably. Disposable. But he surprised me, y’know.”

“Crowley-”

“It’s okay, Aziraphale. I woke up and he was standing there with a giant hammer. It had a weird oozy quality to it, though?” Crowley scrunched his face, like he was trying to remember and describe a dream. “Almost like it was covered in something wet. The demon, he held it out like he didn’t want to touch it, so I’m guessing whatever it was didn’t bode well for him or for me.”

Crowley blew out a deeply-held breath.

“And then, he- the dog, I mean. He was there, but he wasn’t a dog. It was him, I knew it was him. But his form was all different. It was like his essence had leaked out. It couldn’t be contained in the shape of a dog at the moment and it spilled out all over the bedroom. It was- he was light and protection and loyalty and fierceness and pride. It was-”

“Barnabus.”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah, it was Barnabus.”

Aziraphale smiled down at the dog, who was now sprawled out on the patio between them, snoring softly.

Crowley continued. “And then we were surrounded by flames. But they weren’t actual flames? Not hot, just more like, light? I don’t know, but the demon just disintegrated. Like dust. Not even dust, I don’t know if there’s dust left. And I was just sitting in bed, in my pajamas completely fine but the bedroom had been torched. Gonna have to replace that vanity you like. And the wardrobe. The curtains are toast-”

“Crowley-”

“Ngk,” he said, making a face. “Then he was back to being a dog. He trotted outside to the garden and slurped down some water like nothing had happened.”

Crowley raised his glass and knocked back the rest of his drink. “Then you got home and here we are.” 

Aziraphale looked around at the bones, chew toys, ropes, and stuffed animals that littered the yard, none of which had been there yesterday. At his feet, Barnabus snorted, then twitched his paws as he chased dream squirrels.

“Well then,” he said, then stopped. He wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Angel.”

“Crowley.”

“What’s the opposite of a Hellhound?”

**Author's Note:**

> [this is me on tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/doomed-spectacles), though i'm much more random there than here :)


End file.
